


The Line

by tomarkexists



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Abusive Relationships, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomarkexists/pseuds/tomarkexists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At times like this, I wondered why I stayed with him for so long. I met him when I was sixteen, and we started dating about a year after that. Mark was the definition of a perfect boyfriend; kind, patient, sweet, romantic, funny and super hot. When it was our one year anniversary, I really thought I found the love of my life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Line

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a prompt I got on tumblr about an abusive turned affectionate bearded Mark.

He is in a foul mood.

I only noticed it when I suddenly realised that I have been reading the same line from the report again and again.

His mood has permeated into the air, and now it’s affecting my work.

A quiet sound of discontent escaped my lips, and I nearly slapped my mouth.

Shit, if he hears that ...

“What is it, Tom?” his low, monotonous voice was a red flag.

I looked up slowly, afraid that I fucked it up already. His eyes appeared like slits, looking at me dangerously.

“Err ... nothing ...”

“If you sigh like that, I can’t fucking concentrate, okay? I need to finish this by tomorrow, and if I don’t, we don’t have any money. Do you want that?”

“Of course not,” I gulped heavily.

“So, shut the fuck up.”

I cast my eyes down on the piece of paper and forced myself to do what he said.

At times like this, I wondered why I stayed with him for so long. I met him when I was sixteen, and we started dating about a year after that. Mark was the definition of a perfect boyfriend; kind, patient, sweet, romantic, funny and super hot. When it was our one year anniversary, I really thought I found the love of my life.

When I finished high school, I moved in with Mark and began working in an office as an assistant, running errands and other general shitty jobs.  Mark became a freelance painter when he finished art school. Since he can only earn whenever one of his paintings get sold, I was the one supporting the both of us. We manage to scrape by every time, having to pay bills and rent and Mark’s expensive art supplies. However, it was all worth it when Mark received a hefty sum of money from his gorgeous paintings.

But I never knew how bad Mark can get when he is stuck with painting. He won’t shower, nor eat, and just stare at the unfinished work for hours. He gets agitated and very easy to offend. When he finished the painting, it’s like Mark transformed into a butterfly or something. He will go back to the affectionate person I fell in love with.

Right now, he is in that ugly stage. The stage where my boyfriend turns into a completely different person.

I mindlessly chewed on the pen, trying to get rid of the edgy feeling inside. Before I could stop myself, my top teeth bit on the pen too hard, flinging the plastic out of my mouth. I watched in horror as it propelled itself forward, and hit Mark on his back.

And just like previous scenarios, I felt my stomach dropped and knew something unpleasant was waiting for me.

What was it going to be this time? Maybe a slap, or a punch? Maybe he will get his paint water and splashed it on me like that one time? Or maybe he will verbally taunt me until I break down and cry?

Oh god no, not that. Anything but that. I can deal with the physical blows and the humiliation and the bruising that will happen later, but I can’t stand him hurting me emotionally. Those were the times when I really thought I should leave. Once, I managed to pack my bags but I just couldn’t bring myself to just leave.

I just can’t leave him.

Maybe I’m still in love with him, after all.

“Tom, what was that?” his back was still facing me, and I could feel my fingers shaking horribly.

“Th-th-that was an accident Mark. I-I-I di-di-didn’t mean to throw the pen at y-y-you...” I stammered hopelessly.

“Accident?” he snarled.

“Y-y-yes! I swear!”

A brief silence fell, and I had the slightest hope that he will just ignore it and move on with his work. But as soon as I saw the office chair spinning around slowly until I see Mark’s face in front of me, I knew that hoping was naive of me.

“You swear?” a small smirk formed, and for a second, I thought he was beautiful, even with the beard he has grown out.

“Yes!” my voice has gone horribly pitchy that it hurt my ears to say that.

“I’m ... I’m sick of your fucking excuses,” Mark mumbled.

“Wh-what?”

“Prove it! Prove to me that you’re sorry!” his eyes grew alarmingly large as he shouted.

I’m screwed.

Mark suddenly lunged at me. The report was thrown to the side as he pinned me under him, restraining my two hands above my head with his rough grip. We were almost falling off the bed, until Mark lifted me up and throw me into the middle of the bed, before returning to the same position again.

“Show me that you’re sorry,” he growled into my ears as he bit my lobe sharply.

I winced loudly, and that just made Mark bit it again harder.

“Mark! Stop!” I squirmed helplessly.

“Why? You’re my boyfriend, right? We do this all the time.”

“Bu-but –"

“I’ve memorised all your weak spots. Doesn’t that mean that you’re under my total control?”

To prove his point, he began sucking on my neck, and a quiet moan escaped.  He stuffed his hand down my trackpants and began roughly pumping. Though the touch was too aggressive for it to be pleasurable, I became hard quickly.

“You’re quite a masochistic, aren’t you Tom?” he laughed slightly as he placed his lips on mine, kissing me gently first before it turned wild.

I could barely breathe properly, or even think straight as Mark shoved down his tongue. His beard was tickling my chin, and I wondered when he’s going to stop playing with me.

When he pulled away from the kiss, I could see a trail of saliva from my mouth to his. He licked his lips, and looked at me hungrily.

“Mark, please stop...” I begged.

Mark ignored me as he stripped me off my clothes. He began biting on my skin feverously, and I was afraid that his teeth will cut into my skin. I felt exposed as I was the only one naked, Mark showing no intentions of baring any skin.

He stopped straddling me and pushed my legs apart, my feet dangling in the air. I looked at him in shock as he pulled down the boxers he was wearing, his tip already leaking with pre-cum.

“Wait, lube!” I shouted as I could see him preparing to enter me.

“Lube? What for? You’re already this wet,” he sniggered as he stroked my dick quickly, before smearing the moisture around my entrance.

“That’s not eno - FUCK!”

Mark probed inside roughly, ignoring the tight resistance. I began groaning in pain at the hot burn that was spreading.

“Mark, I need lube ...” I whimpered as I felt a sting prickling my eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re too noisy.”

He kept one hand restraining my hands, and the other he used to cover my mouth. Mark fell into a steady rhythm of fucking me mindlessly while I could only choked back my sobs. There was no pleasure in it for me, and I all I could feel was pain and betrayal.

Mark’s hand on my mouth soon slipped as he began to lose himself in me.

“How ... how could you?” I began full on crying, no longer caring about Mark.

I just wanted this misery to go away.

“Tom?” his thrust became less eratic as he said my name.

“Why? Wh-wh-why did you do this?” 

“Tom? Hey, Tom?”

I could feel him pulling out, but I couldn’t care less what he does to me anymore.

I’m just a rag for him.

He let go off my hands and I covered my face, not wanting to look at him right now. I could sense him jerking off somewhere and hear him moaned quietly as he climax.

“Tom, hey babe? Are you okay?”

“What a stupid question to ask...” I muttered.

“Tom, hey, look at me,” he pried my hands away.

As he observed my messed up face, his face began to change.

“Hey babe, I’m sorry,” his eyes looked full of sorrow and regret, but I didn’t want to believe him.

He stroked my cheeks and wiped away the tears that streamed down my face.

“No. Go away,” I tried to push him away, but there’s no more energy in my arms.

“Tom, I’m really sorry, please believe me," he placed gentle kisses on my temple, and I could almost felt myself getting swept away by his lies again.

No, not this time.

“Fuck off ...” I swallowed the lump in my throat as I felt horrible at what I was going to say next.

“You disgust me,” I whispered.

I observed Mark’s shocked face as tears began welling up in his eyes.

“Are you going to leave me now?” he said quietly.

“I ... I don’t know," I said truthfully.

Mark looked completely horrified. I've never seen him this afraid before. He lifted me up swiftly from my position and hugged me tightly. I sat there limply as I felt tears dropping on my shoulder.

“Tom ... I ... I love you. I still do.”

“Please don’t leave me. You love me right? You stayed with me this long even though I’m like this. I’m sorry I’m not perfect, but don’t leave me. If you leave, I don’t think I can survive anything. So ... don’t leave me okay? Please don't fucking leave me ...”

He never sounded so broken and vulnerable as he continued crying.

As I hear the sounds of my lover crying helplessly, I came to realise one thing.

I could never bring myself to leave him.

Because he’s the love of my life.

And even if he fucked me up, I will be more fucked up if we’re not together.

“Okay,” I said simply as I hugged him back.

I could feel his whole body relaxing for the first time in weeks as his crying began to subside.

"Thank you. Thank you so much ..."

As the both of us began comforting each other, my eyes began to focus on the huge painting that was hung on the wall opposite us. It was a painting of two guys sitting down on a bench in front of a lake. I remember Mark getting angry at himself for fucking up on the outline of one of the guys, supposedly me. I told him that it’s still perfect because it was done by him.

To this day, I still think it’s the best painting Mark has ever produced.

“I love you so much,” he said.

“I know ... I love you too ...”


End file.
